


Leap with me (and let go)

by PersonyPepper



Series: Witcher Make-up Au [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Family Fluff, Feel-good, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Insecurity, Light Angst, M/M, Make Up, Not Beta Read, Platonic Cuddling, Soft Eskel (The Witcher), Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Soft Lambert (The Witcher), Soft Vesemir (The Witcher), jask teaches geralt make up and eventually the rest of the wolves wear it too and they love it, jaskier takes care of his wolvess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:54:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25458862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PersonyPepper/pseuds/PersonyPepper
Summary: Jaskier’s makeup bag is soon filled with more colors, blue blush, yellow eyeshadow, violet lipstick. They’re not meant to be worn together, and Geralt learns that the hard way after he bursts into laughter, Jaskier looking into his mirror at his clown-self. They’re breathless by the time they stop giggling (read: jaskier is breathles. Geralt is a witcher, damn him.)He washes his face and teaches Geralt what colors go with what, and how to flick his wrist to make the perfect winged liner. (Jaskier ends up looking like some gothic eldritch and Geralt looks like blushing bride by the end of the night, painted pretty and flush with all the encouragements and compliments Jaskier gives him.)Jaskier didn’t think witchers could blush, but now he thinks that they just never got to feel pretty.Or, Jaskier puts makeup on Geralt's face as a prank but Geralt loves it. Eventually, they travel to Kaer Morhen and it catches on with the rest of the wolves.(Continuation of previous work but can definitely be read alone 'cause I ended up working the entire plot from that into this.)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher Make-up Au [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1844020
Comments: 14
Kudos: 103





	Leap with me (and let go)

Geralt’s knocked the hell out, white gull does that to him, Jaskier’s well aware, but he didn’t know that it made Geralt literally _dead to the world_. He gets bored, as bards do, and fishes out his makeup, which he has because Jaskier likes looking pretty, thank you very much. It’ll be fun, making a scary, intimidating witcher look like a festival performer.

Only, Geralt looks _gorgeous._ Lips painted red, cheeks pink with the barest flush against pale skin, eyes lined with kohl. Oh no, no, Jaskier has made a _dire_ miscalculation. Arousal stirs in his stomach, equivalent to dread. Because Geralt will wash it off. No doubt in that, Geralt is everything _masculine_ , thick, strong arms, broad-set shoulders and the _deepest_ voice that Jaskier has ever seen. And it’s not that the make-up takes away from the masculinity, no, the witcher still looks like he could bench-press three horses _but_ he knows his friend won’t see it that way.

Let’s face it. The man has a thing about his image, a Broody Bitch™️, and wearing makeup softens him a little, makes him look approachable in the least. He’s fucking beautiful and Jaskier can’t take it.

_“Is there something on my face?”_

_“Pft, no, you just look like shit when you’re hungover, now come on, tell me about that Alghoul.”_

Jaskier is a boldface liar, but Geralt gives him a grunt and a side-eye and the bard’ll take it.

“Didn’t know you liked spinning stories, Geralt,” Jaskier jokes, knowing full well he isn’t lying. Geralt pouts. He fucking _pouts._ It’s not really noticeable when his lips aren’t painted red, and his gold eyes aren’t lined with black but he gives people (read: Jaskier) fucking _puppy eyes_. “I _did_ kill it, Jaskier, and I swear it upon—” Roach huffs, unwilling to be dragged into this.

It’s hot, and of course, with Geralt’s witchery-ness, the man doesn’t break a sweat while Jaskier is bemoaning the cruel sun, nearly naked, stripped to his smalls. Geralt leads him off the trail without a word, Jaskier trailing after him because… oh who is he kidding, he’d follow Geralt to the ends of the earth.

It’s not a very deep river, but it’s cold water and Jaskier cheers momentarily before freezing because _oh fuck_. Geralt’ll see and Jaskier can’t even laugh it off because he looks _breathtaking_ and the idea of never seeing him like this is fucking _heartbreaking._ Geralt stares into the water. His reflection stares back, red-colored lips, pink-dusted cheeks, and black-lined eyes. Pretty, even as he frowns (not that Geralt isn’t pretty no matter what he does, post-makeup included, but…).

“I like it.”

“You _what_?”

Geralt stands with a small shrug, turning to an awestruck Jaskier.

“I like it.”

Jaskier’s makeup bag is soon filled with more colors, blue blush, yellow eyeshadow, violet lipstick. They’re not meant to be worn together, and Geralt learns that the hard way after he bursts into laughter, Jaskier looking into his mirror at his clown-self. They’re breathless by the time they stop giggling (read: jaskier is breathles. Geralt is a witcher, damn him.)

He washes his face and teaches Geralt what colors go with what, and how to flick his wrist to make the perfect winged liner. (Jaskier ends up looking like some gothic eldritch and Geralt looks like blushing bride by the end of the night, painted pretty and flush with all the encouragements and compliments Jaskier gives him.)

Jaskier didn’t think witchers could blush, but now he thinks that they just never got to feel pretty.

~~

By the time they begin heading towards Kaer Morhen, Geralt’s quite well-versed in the art of beauty. He can do a decent blending of eyeshadow and his kohl work is kinda on point. Jaskier himself likes wearing his kohl a little smudged, eyelids smeared with black eyes-shadow because he is, above all, a dramatic bitch.

Geralt, though, _adores_ colors, his entire ensemble of black and white contrast _oh so gorgeously_ with yellow that melts into orange before trailing off into a light gold, lips a matte nude. Jaskier could _cry_ , he looks so fucking good. He honestly kinda does sometimes. Geralt looks at him like he’s fond or like he’s lost it, probably both. Surprisingly enough, Geralt doesn’t even try hiding it, townsfolk stare at the vibrant color on the witcher’s ever-scowling face and even more surprisingly, he’s given compliments, children rushing up to him to shove flowers into his hand because _you remind me of a sunflower, Mister Witcher._

It’s as they’re heading up for Kaer Morhen that Geralt shows any sign of… awkwardness, more tense than usual. He’s donning an emerald green shade of eyeshadow and a clear gloss on his lips— looks _so_ fucking fierce that Jaskier’s mouth goes dry and he knows he’ll be thinking about it when he inevitably gets himself off later.

They settle to camp. “Geralt? You alright, my dear?” Geralt hums, sits Jaskier down in front of him, and drags blue over his lips, the same color as Jaskier’s eyes, before adding a smudge of black shadow over his eyes and lining it with kohl. Come morning, Geralt’s skin is smeared with a mix of sapphire blue and clear gloss, and so is Jaskier’s, in kiss-prints along shoulders and up necks. They make quite the pair of fools, giggling at each other in the chilly weather. Despite the mess, Geralt makes Jaskier’s heart race.

They step into the old keep, door creaking open, Geralt stood by him with fiery red makeup, lined with a sharp wing and pink lips and _honest to god, it is SENDING Jaskier, he’s gonna die—_ only Geralt’s not stood anymore, and Jaskier’s world’s tilting too. _Is he being fucking attacked?_ Three witchers piled up on him, sniffing at Geralt. Oddly enough, feels like a horizontal group hug than much else, and Jaskier cranes his neck to keep his lips and lined eyes from smudging (he feels so pretty).

They’re met with shocked silence when Lambert and Eskel finally catch sight of Geralt’s face. The atmosphere is awkward during lunch and as Jaskier looks around, he realizes why. Everything is _entirely_ masculine, leatherwork and animal hides and metal and though those thing don’t make someone masculine, since masculinity is for each person to define for themselves, he understand why the wolves are so… unsure.

It’s an utter surprise to see two gruff witchers in the room when he and Geralt return from the springs. Lambert looks almost bashful, not meeting, anyone’s eyes and Eskel a bit more mild-mannered, but not by much. Geralt does Lambert’s face, the witcher obviously more comfortable with his brother than Jaskier— the bard takes no mind of it as he ask Eskel to part his lips for the lip tint.

That morning, Eskel, Lambert, and Jaskier go down for breakfast, Geralt bare-faced. (Lambert and Eskel had looked so shocked when Geralt had replied _I don’t feel like it,_ when asked why he wasn’t wearing any, as if amazed that makeup wasn’t a mask to hide behind and rather an art form to express oneself.)

Vesemir only shrugs at them after a moment, and though it’s a bit awkward at first, but soon the room’s roaring with laughter as Jaskier recounts a tale of Geralt and a griffin, her babes in the bard’s lap that were _simply too cute to push away._

Eskel catches him in the library later that day, eyes tearing up. _“You don’t understands, bard,”_ he whispers as Jaskier wipes the tears away to keep the makeup from running, _“I feel beautiful.”_ Jaskier kisses the scarred skin under his eye and tells him that he’s always been beautiful and Eskel looks at him like he might agree.

Wearing makeup in Kaer-Morhen isn’t so unusual weeks later, at least one of the three wolf cubs donning some sort of color. Eskel and Lambert still come to either Jasksier or Geralt, but they’re learning. Late nights are spent laughing at Jaskier’s face as they practice on him.

~~

It’s on a quiet night that Vesemir cracks Geralt’s room open, Jaskier filling in a careful line of kohl on Lamber’s eyes. It’d taken the youngest witcher longer to warm up to him and trust him, but he practically melts around Jaskier now.

There’s a tense silence. Applying makeup is an intimate process for them, one of trust and vulnerability, and while they do trust Vesemir, none of them are sure if he ignores the makeup or if he accepts it. Jaskier supposes they’ll find out.

Vesemir stares down at them and they look up at him.

“Well?” He asks, greying eyebrow raised, “who’s going to do me?”

Eskel stands, his face a tasteful smatter of violet kohl and eyeshadow blended from dark pink to purple and to black, paired with matte-black lips. He goes to kneel behind Jaskier, the bard’s hair long to his chin, and brushes it gently, another part of their routine, caring for each other’s hair.

Geralt watches as his mentor comes to sit in front of him, posture tense, unsure. He looks at the man, the same man who had comforted him through his Trials, told him the hardships of the path, the same man who had trained him so harshly, pushed him to his limits, knowing neither of them had a choice. It must feel insanely powerful, Geralt’s painted soft pink and violet, dragging rose-colored rouge over his mentor’s lips, patting in blush onto his cheek. Jaskier finishes with Lambert’s makeup, and the witcher turns, leans back against the bard’s chest, melting into the embrace as he looks at Vesemir, his mentor’s eyes being filled in with a ripe-peach-colored shadow, lined from corner to edge of his lid with black kohl.

Vesemir stands, bringing Geralt into a tight hug. Jaskier isn’t ashamed to admit that he shed a tear or two or two million.

They spend the rest of the night amongst each other’s easy company, taking care of each other by combing each other’s hair and braiding it for the night, or simply laying around. Jaskier feels so utterly loved and cared for, Geralt kissing away tears as they fall asleep in a pile.

Of course, why stop there? Soon, Jaskier declares spa days, taking care of his witchers an hour or two once every week, filing nails and painting them (he’d come prepared), combing hair, massaging, pampering them, he loves it, _they love it_.

It’s good. Having a family to take care of. It’s really good.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments let me know that you're enjoying my work!!!!


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